


Daddy Dearest

by Jemisard



Category: X-Men (Comicverse)
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-19
Updated: 2015-12-19
Packaged: 2018-05-07 14:58:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5460596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jemisard/pseuds/Jemisard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scott hates the future. His adult self is a cold blooded killer and some lunatic with issues with Wolverine has kidnapped him.</p><p>Warning: There's a lot of talk, innuendo and menacing, but no actual actions taken.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Daddy Dearest

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Rilo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rilo/gifts).



Scott would have opened his eyes if he could, but the blindfold kept them closed and, in return, kept him prisoner. The handcuffs were tight enough to pinch, so even breaking his thumb wouldn't get him free.

He used his fingers to carefully, quietly explore his bondage. He was handcuffed, but the handcuffs seemed to be padlocked to a chain which he presumed was attached up the wall where he couldn't reach. Not with his ankle securely attached to something else.

"So, who do you call 'Daddy'?"

He jumped at the sudden voice in his ear, cringing away from the hot laugh of breath over his cheek and neck, turning his face from the other man's.

"Hey!"

A hand grabbed his chin and jaw, forcing it back so he could feel breath and the heat of another person.

"I asked you question, pretty boy." His face was turned back and forth. He could feel the critical gaze that came with that gesture, assessing, calculating.

"I- I don't," he stammered out.

"Not even old man, Xavier? He's never asked you to come and sit in his lap and call him Daddy?" There was another laugh and he tried to pull away, but the strong fingers wouldn't let him.

"No. Of course not, he's not like that!" It was enough to pierce his fear. "The Professor's a good man!"

"So good that you'll decide to kill him."

"I'm not him!" He wasn't that man, with the cold face and dispassionate voice, who so calmly justified the Professor's death. "I'm not."

"Hm." The hand let go of him and a quiet tread moved away. 

Scott fought to keep his breath under control, head hanging and shoulders slumping as much as his bondage would let him. "Why are you doing this to me? I don't know who you are."

"No, of course you don't. This isn't about you, Scottie-boy." There was a noise, maybe a metal cap on a bottle being unscrewed, and then the clink of glass on glass and liquid pouring. "What about Wolverine? Maybe that's why you took his jacket and bike, all bundled up nice and safe in Daddy's leather?"

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Scott pulled on the handcuffs, futilely trying to move, to free himself. "I'm _sixteen_ , he's like, a hundred years old-"

"Ah, but it isn't him being him that's a problem to you, then?"

"I hadn't even thought about it, why would I even think that?!" He kicked, but his ankle refused to be freed. "Let me go!"

"Tsk, tsk, temper tantrums won't get you anywhere, _Slim_." There was two footsteps, long, heavy strides and a foot came down on his knee, painful and sharp but a threat rather than a broken joint. "Now, sit there like a good boy and maybe I won't cut anything off you as a momento to Daddy dearest."

Scott snapped his mouth shut and drew back into the wall. With a last, low chuckle, his captor moved away again.

Even wearing the heavy leather jacket he had taken from Logan, Scott felt cold. Cold to the core.


End file.
